


FOMO: Fear of Missing Out

by vodkawrites



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aging, Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Canon Compliant, Character Study, College, Established Relationship, Fear, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fraternities & Sororities, Growing Old, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Married Life, Original Character(s), POV Katsuki Yuuri, Partying, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Sorry Not Sorry, Underage Drinking, University, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, Years Later, body issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 11:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodkawrites/pseuds/vodkawrites
Summary: Victor has neglected his "life" and "love" for the past twenty years. He has never made instant ramen, or been to a college, or even attended a graduation - being five-time world champion and two-time Olympic champion, he hasn't exactly had the time to do mundane things. But he will do anything to relive the childhood he's never had, even if it means dragging Yuuri to a college frat party.Written for the Yuri!!! On Ice Two Year Anniversary!





	FOMO: Fear of Missing Out

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Two Year Anniversary!
> 
> Warnings: self-deprecation, depression, and body issues.

It all starts with a box.

It's an inconspicuous box - a plain brown package covered in a plethora of flowery stamps. There isn't anything special about this box, at least not on the outside.

The box arrives at precisely 9:08 in the morning, with as little fanfare as expected. The planned knock from the doorman is exactly on cue, prompting Makakchin to bark incessantly until someone answers the door.

That job typically falls onto Victor. He is the one who is usually in charge of the mail, signing off on the copious amounts of letters that comes to their door. And they get a lot of mail at this address - fan gifts from all over the world, Amazon boxes filled with random items, PR packages from sponsors that want their products features on Instagram; it all pours in every single day. Their doorman must hate them.

Yuuri, however, ignores the entire affair completely. He is long used to getting mail and this time is no different. As usual, he stays sound asleep, lying peacefully on his side with a bit of drool rolling down his cheek. 

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri rolls over on his bed.

“Yuuri!”  

Yuuri groans at the sound of his name. It is too early for this. Albeit, it is a perfectly normal time to wake up, but he has never been an early riser; not in college, not for competitions, and certainly not now during the off season. He much prefers to sleep in as late as possible, usually rolling out of bed sometime near noon with half of the day already gone. Therefore 9AM is too early for anything, let alone mail.

Victor, however, isn't like that at all. He is the epitome of an early riser: waking up peacefuly with the rising sun, taking Makkachin for morning walks and going to work-out before most people have even grabbed their morning coffee.

But on a Saturday?

During off-season?  

Really?

"Yuuri! Wake up! We’ve got a care package!"

"Hmmm?" Yuuri answers, his voice muffled by the pillow. In his sleepy state, he can’t tell if it is dream or real. Yet if it is real, he doesn't dare open his eyes, because if he opens his eyes, he will admit defeat. And Yuuri Katsuki does not like to admit defeat.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty! You've got some mail," he urges. He settles down on Yuuri's side of the bed, making a depression in the mattress that is sure to disrupt his peaceful dreams.

So much for beauty sleep.

"Five more minutes," Yuuri promises him, although he would much prefer if it were five hours. Yes, certainly the package could wait five hours. Or more.

If there is not a bomb in that box, it can wait. 

"Fine, I guess I'll just open it myself then," Victor concedes with a dramatic huff as he stands up from the bed.

"Mmm," Yuuri agrees, rolling onto his stomach

Admittedly, Yuuri is happy to hear Victor walk out of the room. Yuuri sighs happily, repositioning himself and snuggling further under his covers. He hopes whatever is in that package will distract him for a few hours while he catches up on his beauty sleep. Yes, that is surely a fair enough trade off.

Of course it isn’t and Victor is back in their bedroom in mere moments, now sporting a pair of blunt scissors in one hand. He begins violently ripping open the box in the loudest possible way like he’s Edward Scissor Hands. Bits and pieces of cardboard and tape fall to the ground like snowflakes, littering the ground hazardously and carelessly.

Yuuri is not having it; Victor is doing this on purpose.

"Really? Do you have to do that in here? And while I’m trying to sleep?" Yuuri asks, the aggravation clear in his tone. He switches positions once again by rolling onto his stomach. He blinks, squinting as he tries to find Victor in the dim light of the room.

“What if it’s important?”

“It can wait.”

"Well it was addressed to you. And it's illegal to open someone else's mail so you have to get up and open it unless you want me to get arrested and go to jail and never see your beautiful face again! Yuuri, you can't let me go to jail! The food is terrible and the beds are cold. Plus, I look terrible in orange! You can’t put me through that torture, now could you?“

Victor dramatically collapses onto the bed, taking up as much space on their rather large bed as he splays out. He positions his entire weight to rest precisely on Yuuri's stomach. Usually this would be a rather romantic gesture, one filled with affection.

But right now? Not so much.

Yuuri roughly shoves Victor with his feet. Victor promptly tumbles off the bed with a thud.

"Yuuri," he whines, rubbing his side. "That hurt."

"Serves you right for laying on top of me!"

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it," Victor remarks, smugly.

Yuuri rolls his eyes. "You're impossible."

"But you still love me."

“Of course.”

His approval is all Victor really needs before leaning over and placing a kiss on his forehead. The small gesture is almost enough to melt away any resentment Yuuri may have for his disrupted sleep schedule. Almost.

“Well now that you’re officially up, you can open the mail with me,” Victor insists with a cheery grin.

"Alright, alright, I'm up, I’m up," he assures Victor.

Yuuri palms his nightstand as he blindly tries to find his glasses. Once he feels the familiar metal frame, he places the thick frames on his nose. He blinks twice as his eyes adjust to the morning light.

“And this couldn’t wait because...?” Yuuri asks.

Victor flashes a victorious smile. “Because I like opening mail with you!”

Yuuri shrugs, unable to argue with that logic. So, he pushes himself up on the bed, sitting cross-leg on his sheets. He pats the edge of the bed, motioning for Victor to join him. Victor plops himself down, the bed dipping ever so slightly when he sits downs.

“Who is it from?” Yuuri asks, stifling a yawn.

“You family, I think. I can’t really read the Japanese but I think it says Hasetsu on it and it’s in your dad’s handwriting,” Victor admits. “I guess we’ll just have to open it and see, won't we?”

Victor picks up the box from where it sits hap-hazardously on the nightstand. With the box in his possession, he scoots even closer to Yuuri, so close that their shoulders brush together when they move ever so slightly. Of course, some bits and pieces of loose cardboard spill onto both of their laps. Yuuri doesn’t even want to think how long it will take to clean all of that up.

Victor wrestles with the remaining tape that glues the box together, before pulling apart the top flaps. A few pieces of packaging paper fly onto the floor. Great, more things to clean.

Victor holds out the box, practically presenting the overflowing contents to Yuuri. Yuuri snakes his hand around the copious amounts of packaging paper and bubble wrap. His parents have been rather generous with their care packages ever since he moved to Russia. He thinks they must miss having him and Victor around - always having someone to dote on and show embarrassing home movies to. Nevertheless, the weekly FaceTimes are not enough for his parents and they insist on sending them gifts as often as possible. He doesn't even want to think how much the shipping itself must have cost.

Yuuri picks out a small hand-written letter that sits neatly on the top. It is written in his mother tongue, reminding him how much he truly misses home. Yes, technically speaking, St. Petersburg is his home - anywhere with Victor is automatically his home - but it will never be Hasetsu.

It doesn’t help that the box even smells like home, in a somewhat nostalgic way. He can smell each individual distinctly, carefully crafting a distinct scent until it is a perfect amalgamation of his hometown. The distinct aroma of Sapporo beer, the staunch odor of freshly cut fish from the market, and even the tell-tale sign of cigarette smoke that lingers at the edges. It reminds him of home.

That feeling all but disappears when Victor unceremoniously pulls out the first treat. “What’s this? Even more snacks?”

"Of course. You kept telling me how much you miss Japanese candy so I told mom send us more. You know how much she loves spoiling you," Yuuri reminds him.

It’s true though. Ever since they have moved back to Russia, Victor missed Japanese candy (“Russian candy isn’t the same!”). It doesn’t help at all that he has soft-spot for all sweets, but especially those with cute cartoon characters printed on bright pink plastic bags. This time, it's Hello Kitty themed Ramune gummies. The treat has become Victor’s favorite, despite being on a skater’s diet.

"Let me try to read!” Victor insists. He inspects the treat carefully, holding it close to his face as he tries to phonetically read out the characters.

“Should I get your reading glasses?”

“No need, I’ve got it without them!” Victor assures him.

Yuuri can’t help but to chuckle at how adorable he looks: his tongue sticking out of the corner of his lips, his eyes squinting at the words to make out the looping characters. Surely, it would be so much easier if he just wore his glasses.

"Ra…mu...na…no it’s ni? Ramuni! Is that right? I've been practicing my katakana!"

"You're very close. It's ramune," Yuuri corrects.

"Ramune," he repeats, rolling the words in his mouth as if he is testing them out. “I always get the N-s wrong. We’ll have to practice more before we go back to Japan. I really want to impress your sister this time.”

Victor wastes no time ripping open the bag, pouring half of the bag into his palm. He offers Yuuri his stack of candy, which he surely isn’t going to complain about. He isn't going to turn down candy, especially if it is endorsed by his coach. After all, Yuuri does have a bit of a sweet-tooth as well.

"Your family is the best," Victor says after swallowing the sugary gummy He eagerly peers into the box, hoping to find more candy. To his dismay, the next few items are rather unexciting - a refill of Yuuri's anxiety pills, two boxes of loose leaf tea, K-beauty skin care for Victor - hardly worth waking up before noon to open. Hardly worth waking up at all for.

But Victor pulls each one out with gusto. As always, he has a bright smile on his face, despite the early morning. He gawks at every single one and makes each item into a spectacle. He is especially overjoyed by the old video tapes of Yuuri's novice competitions.

Yuuri swears he will burn those when Victor isn't looking.

"Last one!" Victor exclaims, looking chipper as always despite the grueling amount of time he has taken to open one single box. Yuuri swears it has been at least two long hours that they have spent unboxing, stretching out each item like they weren’t ordinary objects his family shoved into a box. They should open a YouTube unboxing channel at this point.

Impatiently, Victor stretches his hand inside the box again, fishing out whatever surprise his parents have packed inside the box. His hand curls around the object, carefully removing it from its cardboard prison. 

"What is it?" Yuuri asks. "A book?"

A book? Really? All of this fuss for candy, medicine, and a book?

He would much rather be asleep right about now.

Victor inspects curiously, his eyebrows knitting together. “I don’t think it’s a book. I think it's a photo album," he muses. He discards the empty box onto the floor and props the book onto his lap.

Honestly, Yuuri has never seen that particular photo album before - navy blue with no discernible patterns or letters on the cover. It must be relatively new given the barcode sticker that is still glued to the back. What is most troubling is that the album could have pictures from anywhere; anything from an old dance recital to his first bath could be pasted in there! And no matter what, Victor would gush over those photos for the next one hundred years.

Yuuri sincerely regrets not getting the mail this morning. He wishes he wasn't so lazy and just opened the box by himself. At least then he wouldn’t have to die of embarrassment in front of his husband. Yes, dying alone sounds much more pleasant than this torture.

"I hope it's the photos from the family trip to Osaka. I've been waiting for those for a year now! I want one hundred copies of those pictures of us in yukatas."

Victor wastes no time turning the front cover open, exposing the contents to the world - or rather, the privacy of their bedroom.

Yuuri internally cringes. He knows those photos from anywhere, could probably recognize them with his eyes closed. Those blurry, dark photos from the backlog of his phone’s photo catalogue. He thought he conveniently “misplaced” those photos years ago.

"Where are these from? I've never seen these before in my life," Victor admits slowly.

Yuuri doesn't say anything to that - he doesn't need to; the photos speak for themselves. His old college photos, that is.

Victor gasps. "I can’t even tell which one you are. Is this you?"

Yuuri blushes, looking at the photo Victor is referring to. He is surprised how different he looks; how much he has grown since eighteen. He is still rather awkward looking, as most teens are. He’s…well, large - large for a figure skater that is, as the voice in the back of his head likes to remind him – and still growing into his body. His face still sports a layer of baby-fat even if he is already far too old to still have traces of baby fat. Although, he shouldn’t lie to himself any longer: it wasn’t baby fat - it was just fat. He distinctly remembers even Mari teasing him about the freshman fifteen but Yuuri thinks it was far more than just fifteen kilos he gained that year, if he is being completely honest. And judging by the photos, everyone could tell.

"Yeah it sure is," Yuuri says as he warily examines the photos.

He isn't sure how or why his parents procured these photos (probably with some help Phichit) let alone why they took the time to print them onto glossy paper, stamp them into an album, and ship the book to them. They aren't even good photos - photos taken of him in poorly lit environments and on an old phone camera with worse quality than pictures taken in those photo booths at mall kiosks. As he learned from years of living with Phichit (and then with Victor himself), selfies are an art form, taking years to master the perfect angle and lighting and whatnot. So as selfies go (or just photos in general), these are hardly worth being in a photo album.

"So cute," he coos, in the same cutesy tone he uses with Makkachin. “You’ll have to thank your family for sending these! They're amazing!”

Yuuri groans.

“Don’t be like that, Yuuri. I’ve been asking for these for a long time!”

Yuuri is not amused, to say the least.

"It must've been before we met. How old were you? No, wait, let me guess. Uhh...thirteen?"

Yuuri shakes his head. "Close, but no."

Victor's face visibly falls.

"To be fair, I don't really know how old I was in that picture," Yuuri admits. He rubs the back of his neck, nervously patting down the dark hairs. "I was maybe twenty at the time, I don’t really remember. Everything was a bit of a blur. All I know is that I was still in college - well, I guess you'd call it university but it's the same thing. So anytime between eighteen and twenty-three, I guess."

"I love these!" Victor gawks. He turns the page, pointing at a very specific group photograph. "And look at your friends! You have so many and they must’ve loved you! Why don’t you talk to them anymore? I bet they’d love to see you again!"

Yuuri hides his blush behind his hands. The photo isn't really that good, if he is being honest. Not to mention that he has never really liked group photos - they are awkward and uncomfortable, in his humble opinion - yet it is sentimental to see how happy everyone is. In the photograph, Yuuri is at the centered, surrounded by a large crowd comprised of both the ice skating and hockey team, all enveloping him in a large hug. They are all congratulating him for winning gold at Nationals, presenting him with a plaque that will forever be memorialized at the rink. He hates how famous he was at his school.

“Who are all these people?”

“Just some old friends,” Yuuri says with a shrug. “I don’t really talk to them anymore. It’s hard now that we’ve all gone our separate ways. Plus, they probably all live in America so it’s hard to chat with the time difference.”

“Ah, makes sense that I’ve never seen--Wait! Is that Phichit?"

"Yeah it is," Yuuri answers, smiling fondly at the picture.

It certainly isn't Phichit's best photo. It's before the era of Facetune and Instagram filters, if the lighting itself is anything to go by. Well, Yuuri is convinced even proper lighting couldn’t help this horrible photo. The photograph sports Phichit with a poorly shaped bowl-cut (cut by himself) and a smattering of too-light foundation. The two of them are sitting on a battered couch in the dorm lounge, a round of Mario Kart just finishing in the background. There is a discarded bottle of Jack Daniels laying in the background of the photo, reminding him of all the mistakes that probably came after. There is a noticeable flush on their cheeks - the Asian glow, as his friends affectionately named it. Phichit has his arm sloppily around Yuuri while Yuuri continues to fumble with his controller, completely unaware that is photo is being taken at all. He supposes even the self-proclaimed King of Social Media has to start somewhere.

Yuuri wants to burn the unflattering picture, and he is sure that Phichit would agree. Although, it would be great blackmail material.

"You were so small."

Were?

And this is why he hates looking at his old photos.

He knows, logically of course, that Victor doesn't mean it that way, but that doesn't stop Yuuri's hands from flying to stomach. His hands instinctively rest there, folding and grabbing the pudge that has added to his extra padding.

"Yuuri," Victor says, noticing that his husband has completely ignored his last two exclamations about how adorable he was. He sets the photo album aside on the bed and asks, "what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he lies, fidgeting a bit. He tugs at the bottom hem of his nightshirt, picking at the stitches just to busy his hands. He tries to pull them hem down, hiding his stomach from his coach/husband. It is off-season though, so he has time.

"Just remembering something," Yuuri adds, defensively. 

Victor stays silent for a moment, which is never a good sign. He obviously knows something is wrong and yet he doesn’t say anything more. For that, Yuuri is thankful.

Instead, he picks up where he left off, browsing through more old photos.

Yuuri lets out a sigh of relief. These pictures are better, now depicting his third year of university, his thinnest year. He distinctly remembers being on some fad diet, something an old friend recommended that he tries. Grapefruit, was it? Or maybe it was that terrible liquid diet? Nonetheless, it couldn’t have been good for him.

Now that he really looks at the photo, he was rather small, too small. Yuuri realizes that it certainly wasn’t healthy to be that weight and yet it's a bleak reminder that his metabolism isn't what it used to be.

"You look like a baby! So young," Victor coos.

"Not that young," Yuuri reminds him, trying to push down the sinking feeling in his stomach. He can worry about his weight later; right now, he should relish in his old memories. He supposes it is too early to be worrying about his weight, not before he has even had anything for breakfast.

"So? You look so different." Victor looks between the photo and Yuuri. He smiles before adding, "so adorable. Look at those cheeks."

Yuuri pouts. The photos couldn't be from too long ago. Seven? Eight years at most? Some of them not even more than three or four. And yet, now that he thinks back to it, his college years do feel like a millennium ago.

"I always had a baby face,” he reminds his husband.

"Well even though you’re not a baby, it’s still a very cute face," Victor remarks cheekily. He pokes Yuuri's cheek, his finger tip sinking into his plush skin, only further proving that Yuuri has a chubby baby face.

Yuuri sulks.

"No matter what, you'll always be cute to me. Baby face or adult face," Victor reminds him. He places an innocent kiss on his cheek.

Yuuri can't help but to blush at his romantic gesture. It seems that he can't help but to turn as red as a tomato whenever he receives a compliment from his husband, despite the many years they have spent together. So, he hides his face with his hands as Victor turns his attention back to the photographs.

No matter how many pages they seem to scroll past, Victor seems to have a comment about every photo: "Is that the girl that wrote your free skate music?"; "I can't believe you wore that tie out in public! We should really burn it!"; "I didn't know you took a road trip to Canada! Is it true they eat moose there?". Yuuri wonders if Victor knew all along that his parents were sending this. He wonders if he was the one who coordinated the care package all along. It would make sense...

But those thoughts are completely ignored by the seemingly endless number of photos stuffed into this album. Each one documents a part of Yuuri's life he wishes he could forget. And, tragically, he is without a shirt for most of them.

After what feels like one hundred years, Victor turns to the last page of the album. Yuuri lets out a sigh of relief that they are finally, finally done with this torture. He really doesn't want to be reminded of his youth by reliving his crazy formative years in university through photographs.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Yuuri asks, hoping that Victor has grown tired of looking at these old photos.

How wrong he is.

Instead of closing the book, Victor actually takes the glossy print out from the protective plastic. He turns to Yuuri before announcing "I want to frame this one! You look beautiful here."

Yuuri glares at him.

"We are absolutely not framing my old college graduation photo," he decides. He reaches for the photo, ready to snatch the offending object from his hand, but Victor is too quick. He leans forward, holding the photo just above Yuuri's grasp. He has never hated seven centimeters more in his life - often liking that he has to stand on his tip-toes to catch Victor’s lips into his own - but now he really wishes he could be just a little bit taller.

Curse his relatively short genes.

"Why not? It’s such a good one and we don’t really have a lot of pictures of just you in the apartment. Come on, please? I promise I’ll get a pretty frame," Victor whines, still holding the photo far from Yuuri’s reach.

Yuuri pouts, pursing out his bottom lip rather childishly. There are a million reasons why framing his graduation photo is a terrible idea. First of all, it's an unflattering photo. If he has learned anything from his former roommate, it's that lighting is everything. And this photo is under the natural light of the Detroit sky, casting odd shadows across his face. It makes him look sickly.

Second of all, it's old, already almost four years old! Yuuri’s rule is that if it’s before he and Victor got together, then it is basically ancient history.

Thirdly, it doesn't fit their theme - or as Victor so pompously calls it “aesthetic” - in the slightest. Their house is filled with mostly pictures of them together: from their honeymoon to skating exhibitions to blown up photos from their anniversary trip to London. Therefore, this would totally ruin their apartment. It’s just basic home decorating rules. Bobby Berk would be ashamed if he ever found out.

And of course, lastly (and arguably most importantly), Yuuri hates that photo.

He really doesn't want to be reminded that he only earned his degree out of obligation, not because he truly deserved it. That leaving without his degree - after five long years of work - would be more shameful to him than leaving with it.

However, Victor is persistent.

"No need to be embarrassed, Yuuri! Graduation is an important achievement! It can go right next to the picture of me winning my first gold medal at the Olympics. And then we should ask your parents for your diploma! That could go in our medal cabinet! We could always make some room in there. I can shift around my junior medals and even move them to the back to make space."

Yuuri shakes his head once.

"Victor, there’s no need to. Trust me, it's not that big of a deal," Yuuri presses. He really doesn't want his graduation to be celebrated. After all, graduation is unspectacular: three hours of boring speeches and listing off names of people he will never see again. He wants as little fanfare to be associated with his university life as possible. It isn't exactly a time he wants to remember.

“It totally is.”

“Not really.”

"What do you mean? I thought graduation was special!"

"It is, I guess."

"So? Why can't I put it up?"

Yuuri chews on the bottom of his lip. He really doesn't have a good answer for that, or at least not an answer Victor would accept. So, he goes with, "I just don't think it belongs next to you winning an Olympic gold medal. Winning the Olympics is an achievement, graduating from college isn’t. It's really not that important."

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it isn't," Yuuri bickers. His hands pull at the sheets, grabbing a handful if fabric so tight until his knuckles turn white.

He doesn't understand why Victor is so adamant about a silly photo. Having his only achievement be something he did out of obligation versus winning the Olympics at sixteen is embarrassing, to say the least. It certainly doesn't belong on a list of his achievements; and it most certainly doesn't belong in their medal cabinet. Something so ordinary does not belong with something so extraordinary. They’re not even on the same level!

"It's really not that special. Everyone goes to graduation!"

Yuuri expects Victor to argue, to fight childishly until he gets what he wants. Or at least some sort of lecture about how he shouldn’t put down his own accomplishments.

Except, Victor falls silent. The quiet is eerie and uncomfortable and Yuuri feels as though time is moving in slow-motion

"Not everyone," Victor reminds him, softly yet bitterly.

Yuuri has never wished he could take back words more than at this moment. Even a stab in the back couldn't have hurt more than this. He knows he shouldn’t have said that, but the words slip out before his brain could catch up with his mouth. He is so wrapped up in winning his argument that he neglects to even think about how Victor must feel.

Sure, graduation may be insignificant to him, someone who has been blessed to graduate from both high school and college. He has been to more graduations and moving up ceremonies than he would care to ever do again. But Victor? He doubts he had time even for a primary school graduation.

Yuuri mentally kicks himself for saying such a rude comment. He deserves to curl up into a ball and wither away until he is nothing but dust. No, he doesn’t even deserve to be dust.

How could he be so obnoxious as to insinuate something like that?

Plenty of his closest friends didn't go to college: Yuuko, got pregnant before she even made it out of high school; Takeshi decided to enlist in the military until his kids were born; and Minako pursued her dance career instead. Not to mention that he is the first of his immediate family to even fully attend university let alone graduate. His father didn't have enough money to take any entrance exams to even go to high school. His mother had no interest in attending any higher institution, preferring to live a modest life working at the onsen. And lastly, his sister, who went to university for three weeks before deciding it wasn't for her. So, like the badass rebel she is, Mari withdrew the check and got a tattoo instead.

And, of course, his now husband. The man who was too busy with his own legacy to even consider education. Yet when given the choice, he had put ice skating above everything else. Rightfully so.

"Vitya," he says, affectionately, softly. He usually doesn't use that name - it is too hard, too foreign to say - so he saves it for special occasions. It is supposedly comforting, a sign of home, much like Yuuri's own use of honourifics.

But now, the name just feels sad and cold.

"...y-you know I didn't mean it like that," Yuuri finally admits, lamely. He bows his head in shame, trying to prove how apologetic he truly is. 

"I know. It's okay," Victor assures him. He caresses his hand under Yuuri's chin, tilting his head up so their eyes can meet. His lips are immediately left with an affectionate peck, quickly brushing off the incident.

Yuuri sighs as they pull apart.

Victor always does this, time and time again. He always plays off his sadness, hiding the slightest bit of emotion with affection. It wouldn't be the first time he deflects his feelings under the pretense that everything is just fine, when he is all but broken inside.

Yuuri know this and has silently come to terms with it. Victor bottles up his feelings and locks them away so that they can never be seen again. His words of encouragement say he's okay yet his eyes say something else. Years in the spotlight has conditioned him this way, to never show any hint of weakness.

Victor flashes him a sad smile, forcing himself to be "okay". It's plastic, the corners of his lips are stretched too wide and too tight to be genuine. It is one of the smiles he uses with the media, when he pretends everything is fine when he is really falling apart on the inside. It's hard to see him like this.

Yuuri sighs once more.

"I'm sorry. I-I really didn't mean to say...you know. Not everyone graduates, even those of us who do go. There’s plenty of people who never graduated and they’re super successful. Steve Jobs, Bill Gates…um there’s probably others but you get the point. I didn't mean to insinuate that you are...I-I mean..." Yuuri babbles, not really sure of what he is trying to get across anymore.

Yuuri knows that Victor doesn't want to hear his excuses, his lame apologies, his empty words. No matter what words fall from his lips, it will never erase what he said.

“I said it’s okay. I understand.”

Victor brushes his hand over the photos, his fingers leaving just the smallest of prints on the glossy photographs. He tilts his head down as to purposefully avoid Yuuri's worried gaze. He looks oddly nostalgic - a half smile and glassy eyes - as if he is remembering something. What that something is, Yuuri isn’t sure.

"I-I just...," Victor continues, his words soft. His brows furrow, trying to formulate his thoughts into words.

The silence, however, speaks for itself.

The tension is almost palpable, it settles heavy in the room. But Yuuri will not give up; he will right these wrongs.

"The grass is always greener on the other side?"

Victor looks up from the photographs. "Huh?"

Yuuri offers him a sad smile. "You know," he explains, trying to lighten the mood. "It's a saying in America. Something along the lines of you always want what you don't have."

"What does that have to do with grass?"

Yuuri chuckles, the laughter bubbling from his his belly. He doesn't mean to laugh at Victor - maybe it's some kind of awkward reflex, an instinctual way his body reminds him to relax - but it does help. It makes him feel light, lighter than air even.

So, he marvels at Victor’s innocence, his naivety. He may be younger and less experienced but there is so much Yuuri can teach him.

"It's a metaphor for when your neighbour has a really nice green lawn and you look at it and think 'wow, their life must be so great because they can afford to have a green lawn'. But in reality, you don't really know what's going on in their life. They might have a green lawn, but they might work too hard or not have anyone to love. It's that feeling."

Victor falls silent, which is rather unusual for him. He usually expresses his thoughts and feelings through his words - albeit with varying degrees of success. Instead, he adverts his eyes towards the pictures once more. He turns the pages as he silently scrolls through the seemingly endless stream of photographs. Pages on pages of memories he will never have the pleasure of knowing. It hurts to see him this way.

After a moment, Victor finally says "It just seems like you had a lot of fun.”

Yuuri frowns.

Victor isn't usually this nostalgic. Not about his own childhood, not about his family, not about his own skating career. Even after years of being together, it’s almost foreign to see him this way: a man so full of smiles looking absolutely so vulnerable.

Victor hasn’t ever looked so absolutely broken.

"It wasn’t really that fun," Yuuri assures him sympathetically.

Victor snorts, unconvinced.

“I’m serious! It was just study this and study that. And when I wasn’t studying, I was skating or at clubs. Nothing that you would really call fun.”

Victor just narrows his eyes at him and Yuuri fidgets under his gaze, not wanting to meet Victor's glare. He doesn't need to look to confirm that how miserable he must be. Instead, he looks down at his hands as solace, trying to find comfort in the familiar lines that criss-cross on his palm.

"Besides," Yuuri says, offering him an olive branch. "I bet you anyone in college would much rather win an Olympic gold medal than get a degree. I know I would."

Victor cracks a smile. "Two Olympic golds," he corrects before adding, "well I guess three if you count the team medal from Sochi but still. It’s probably more than most college kids have."

"See, that's my point exactly!” Yuuri concedes. He leans over and places a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. "You don't win medals distracted with school work and studying for the SATs. You win when you have all of your mind focused on skating."

"Well when you put it that way, I guess you're right," Victor shrugs, almost defeatedly.

Yuuri lets out a sigh of relief. He really doesn't want to argue with Victor, not about something so trivial and meaningless as his college experience.

The two sit in silence for a moment, basking in the light of the morning sun.

Yuuri takes his husband's hand into his. He basks in how Victor's hand melts into his own, tangling together as if they are meant to stay this way forever. He begins to trace comforting circles into his knuckles, as if it could erase the callouses that formed from years and years of skating; although, he knows nothing could ever soothe those deep scars.

Yuuri knows that it must be hard on him, with coaching and training and preparing dozens of ice shows, the off-season is mentally and physically exhausting. He doesn’t really have the time or energy to discuss it now.

He should've just let him frame the damn picture. Or maybe he has a better idea...

"Want to see some of the pictures that didn't make the album? I have a few still on my phone and laptop."

Suffice to say, Victor forgets all about it after seeing a picture of Yuuri in a slutty Halloween costume.

* * *

Everything goes back to normal. Well, as normal as the life of two famous figure skaters can be, which is about anything except for normal, but that's beside the point. It's as normal as it could be.

Thankfully, they don’t get any more care packages from home for a while. And, more importantly, Victor drops the conversation. He doesn’t really mention anything about the photo album incident, at least for a while.

Well, not in a negative way, at least.

Over the past few weeks, Victor has taken every conversation and turned it into an opportunity to find out everything there is to know about college life, specifically Yuuri’s. His curiosity continues to linger, growing and festering into a small-scale obsession, one that cannot easily disappear.

Yuuri often finds his husband googling random facts and watching every terrible college movie during his spare time (he may rip out all of his hair if he gets one more Netflix recommendation for another American Pie movie). It doesn't help that his browser is currently open on three separate fanfiction stories about them tagged with Alternative Universe - College/University. Yuuri, admittedly, probably wrote one of them.

Regardless, that is hardly the worst thing he has seen. He is pretty sure he has seen Victor looking at SAT prep books on Amazon. He certainly doesn't want to ever think about that ever again.

The fact of the matter is that this spiraling obsession doesn't just stay between them. Victor has begun to talk to just about everybody he knows about it, or at least anyone who would listen to him talk about it. He drags Mila and Georgi and even Yakov into their conversations. He has even seen him, ironically, lecturing Yuri on the importance of education and getting a higher degree. And, unfortunately for Yuuri, their friends are far too willing to discuss it.

Yet it doesn’t simply stop there. Oh no. It begins to infect every aspect of his life. Victor is noticeably distracted more often than not. Yuuri finds that Victor’s mind often somewhere, instead of actual training. Whether that somewhere is dreaming of his college acceptance letters is hard to say for certain, but he knows his husband well enough to assume that is all he has been thinking of recently.

It seems that everywhere they go, everything they do, something - anything - reminds him of what university must’ve been like. Yuuri can't escape from it, no matter what he tries to do. The smallest of comments sneak their way into their daily conversations.

"In college, did you ever go to a football game?"

"Is it true that college kids only eat ramen?"

"You didn't have your own bathroom in college? That's inhumane!"

Usually, Yuuri brushes the comments off, not wanting to instigate a problem. The questions are innocuous enough, often questions he wouldn't mind answering: "no I've never been a football game"; "I ate a lot of instant ramen but not every day"; "yes, we had a communal bathroom and it was fine". He would much prefer these simple (and rather cute) questions than answering the same intrusive questions from reporters. Besides, it is a nice change of pace - to have Victor interested in his personal life instead of the other way around.

So Yuuri plays along, often finds him chuckling at Victor's charming naivety. Albeit, his questions dig up memories from his years in university. Admittedly, some good and some bad ones; ones he wants to remember and ones he wishes he could forget.

However, something inside him stirs, bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Deep down, Yuuri knows there is an ulterior motive, some underlying angst that is controlling his thoughts and making him ask these things.

But Yuuri denies those feelings, burying any bit of doubt under a smile and a few answers. The questions are harmless despite being anything but.

They are out at the supermarket, picking up their daily groceries of all things when Victor mentions it again.

"I made sure to include the milk this time. Anything else we're missing from the list?" Victor asks as they walk through the automatic sliding doors. He unfolds the grocery list, holding it out for Yuuri to look over.

"Hmm," Yuuri hums. He scans the paper, written in an almost illegible combination of English and Cyrillic. He has gotten used to Victor's shorthand (cursive, as he likes to refer to it as) but sometimes it can be practically unreadable. This time though, he has made an effort to write nearly, or at least neater than usual.

The list has all of the basic essentials: eggs, milk, rice, onions - or maybe that says oranges, he's not really sure.

"We're missing the pop. Yuri and Mila are coming over tomorrow and we're almost out. I really don't want Yuri yelling at us again for not having anything to drink but water.”

Yuuri grabs a bright green basket, hanging it lazily on his arm as he makes a beeline for the produce aisles. He knows the store very well, even if he can only read the most basic Cyrillic phrases. It’s probably because they go here so often, but Yuuri doesn’t complain. Going food shopping with Victor is comfortable, domestic bliss.

Victor follows him obediently. Despite often coming with Yuuri to the grocery store after practice, he still hasn’t memorized the layout of the store. Admittedly, he usually orders groceries from an online delivery service or prefers take-out delivery. Cooking food is valuable time Victor just can’t expend anymore.

But going to the grocery store with his husband? That is worth every second.

"Pop?" he asks innocently. He places a finger on his own mouth, tapping it to his bottom lip in a pensive rhythm.

"Soda, coca-cola. You know, those fizzy sugary drinks you'd never let me have if it wasn't off season," Yuuri clarifies as a weak quasi-translation. “I don’t really know how to say it in Russian.”

While it is already going on their third year living in Russia, Yuuri’s Russian is still not completely proficient. So, they usually stick to English. Admittedly, speaking in English to each other usually isn’t an issue.

Truth be told, Victor's English has definitely improved since they moved to Russia - often using defaulting to English rather than just using his mother tongue. While he doesn't always use English outside of their personal conversations, he uses it enough to have an extensive vocabulary. Which is why he didn't think Victor’s English knowledge has dwindled to the point that it has become so out of practice that he doesn't know what soda is anymore.

Victor lets out a snort. "No, I know what you're talking about. My English isn't that bad; I'm not Georgi."

Yuuri chuckles at that.

Honestly, Victor's English is rather good for his fourth spoken language, fifth if you count the basic Hebrew he learned for his Barmitzvah. After becoming an international celebrity at age sixteen, he has made sure to learn the language, immersing himself in both the conversational and written language. It would mostly be formal “textbook” English rather than conversational. While it was out of necessity, Victor doesn't regret Yakov's insistence in the slightest, often thanking his coach for forcing him to learn English. If it wasn’t for him, they probably wouldn’t be able to communicate with each other.

However, Victor’s English has evolved since then. Being around Yuuri, made him well versed in colloquial American English, picking up odd phrases that were often omitted from proper English curriculum.

Although Victor's English is far from perfect (always mistaking, Bs for Vs), it is still far better than Georgi’s.

Georgi never properly learned English. To be fair, it wasn’t really necessary seeing as he never reaching the same international popularity that Victor has. Not to mention that the ISU even provides translators for international competitions.

Compared to Victor, his English doesn't span more than a few common phrases, not that he really needs to know more than “hello” and “thank you” for most situations. It is only a problem when Georgi tries to communicate with Yuuri and, well, he is thankful that he has Victor as a translator. Otherwise, it would be virtually impossible to speak with him, despite Yuuri’s growing Russian knowledge.

"I just never heard call it pop before," Victor says, flippantly. He picks up a banana, lazily examining it for any blemishes before tossing it into the basket. He walks beside Yuuri, their shoulders brushing together.

"I guess that makes sense. I think it’s a Midwestern America thing. I must've picked it up in college," Yuuri reminds him casually.

And there it is. Like a moth to a flame, Victor suddenly becomes interested in the conversation. What was previously a mundane discussion about groceries has now become another opportunity to talk about his college life.

It's a borderline unhealth obsession; his new flavor of the week, as Yuuri likes to refer to it as. Just like his skating, he can never just have a taste, it needs to consume him.

Since the graduation photos, Victor has had an odd affinity with university that comes and goes as the ebb and flow of ocean waves. It’s a burning intensity, a flame that is awaiting a spark to reignite. Sometimes, it comes up naturally in conversation, so naturally that no one on the outside would even notice that it was a calculated move. And other times, Victor brings it up out of nowhere. One moment they could be discussing who is going to fold the laundry and the next Victor is asking him to read his senior thesis. How they are related, Yuuri will never know.

Yuuri wishes it would disappear already, as his obsessions always do. The quad axel, the juice cleanse, the pink hair fiasco, those simple obsessions never last more than a couple of days. The intensity builds and builds, talking of nothing else but that for hours on end, until he finds something else to pique his interest. It has never been this bad as to last this long. And so, he wonders why this in particular has lasted so long.

It must be because Yuuri is so willing to play along.

"You think if I went to university I'd say pop?" Victor posits, tapping his index finger to his lips in contemplation. He turns from the produce stand, facing Yuuri instead of the brightly colored oranges.

Yuuri narrows his eyes at him. He knows this tactic, an almost desperate one, one that is only looking for validation. Yuuri has tried to be sensitive about it, but sometimes his constant interrogations are practically unbearable.

Well, Yuuri isn’t about to give it to him. Not today.

"I think you wouldn't be a five time world champion," Yuuri quips.

On a typical day, a reminder of Victor’s achievements usually settles the conversation. Just one talk of his skating career and Victor usually gets distracted in his hour long praise of his husband’s own skating career. Sometimes, he even whips out the his phone and shows random strangers photos. It’s at the very least enough to distract him, seeing as he is more infatuated with Yuuri than he is with any of his other obsessions. It may be embarrassing, but at least Yuuri is used to it and, In the end, Yuuri comes out victorious.

However, today is not one of those days.

"Well you're a world champion and you have a college degree," Victor says with a resentful pout.

Yuuri groans inwardly.

Now don't misunderstand, Yuuri should be flattered, ecstatic even, that Victor has merely acknowledged his academic achievements, let alone complimented him for his ability to compete and study. Yuuri should be thrilled!

No one ever even approaches the topic of his university life. Honestly, he is rarely praised for his college degree in his life. Only occasionally a fellow skater would casually flatter him ("You study hard? Impressive!) before the conversation returns to his skating accomplishments. It's not exactly common for skaters to complete their degree in a field completely unrelated to skating, or even consider attending university, so Yuuri is usually so thankful when it is recognized.

However, Victor's words are hardly a compliment, his flattery lacks his Victor-branded cheeriness. Logically, Yuuri knows he doesn't mean it to sound deprecating or to belittle his accomplishments. Victor is often terrible at the way he phrases, often sounding harsher than he needs to, especially when coaching. Maybe it’s the language barrier or his limited vocabulary, yet he isn’t the most prolific and eloquent speaker, not that he needs to be.

But this? This isn’t because of his poor English skills. This is a calculate move, nothing more than a petty jab to depreciate his own self worth.

He doesn't exactly understand why he is like this as of late. Stress? Exhaustion? Frustration? Jealousy?

Yuuri immediately dismisses that idea. Surely, he isn't jealous of Yuuri's boring lifestyle. No, it must be something else entirely.

Because, why would anyone willingly endure high school when they could skip their awkward formative education and become an international sensation?

However, Yuuri isn't exactly sure why he is taking his feelings out on him.

"Victor, I'm sick of this sulking," Yuuri confesses. He shifts his weight onto his left leg, resting the basket at his hip. "You've been moping ever since we got that package."

Since there fated day almost two weeks ago, Victor has been rather...different, to say the least. Sometimes Yuuri would hear Victor get up at night, shuffling in their sheets. Other nights, he would rip the sheets off, desperate to escape some sort of nightmare he has endured.

Yuuri would listen to his footsteps as he pads into the living room. On most nights, he would hear some fumbling and some small bangs. At first, Yuuri thought it was just Makkachin, but the movements became too precise to be a dog, even a dog as smart as Makkachin.

Then he could hear the tell-tale signs of a cabinet opening and closing. Sometimes, Victor would put on the TV or run the water to muffle the noises. Yet despite his efforts, Yuuri knew exactly what he is looking for - exactly what he is looking at.

He could hear his husband sigh, a long and sorrowful sigh. In the quiet of the apartment, his exhales echo around the room, filling every inch of their apartment. On more than one occasion, it isn't just sighs. There are nights that Yuuri swear he heard Victor's muffled cries.

Yuuri doesn't say anything, not when he finds him missing from his bed more and more as each day passes. He doesn't vocalize his words when he finds him laying out on the couch with the photographs carefully stowed in their plastic covers. He doesn’t even say anything when he finally returns to bed, cuddling close to Yuuri with jagged breaths.

Every night he thinks that this will be the last time he will do this - that Victor will realize how silly it is to obsess over going (or not going) to college. And as each night, it seems to happen more and more. When morning rolls around, Victor always returns to his bed and wakes up Yuuri with his signature charming smile. As if nothing is wrong.

But the damage has still been done.

Yuuri doesn't exactly know what the trigger is.

Maybe it is the pop in the grocery store. Or maybe his own stress about the upcoming season. (Or maybe that his own husband bottles in his emotions a little too much and doesn’t trust Yuuri enough to tell him about his problems!) But he won’t tolerate this behavior any longer.

"It was fine at first, I thought you were just stressed about the season, but it’s been going on for a long time. I’ll be honest, I don't like seeing you so sad about this college thing," Yuuri adds, his voice soft and patient.

He can’t help but to be concerned, but this obsession is taking a toll on his mental state. It has somehow snaked its way into every crack and crevice of their lives. He wants to know a way to exterminate it.

And Yuuri truly does want to solve this problem. He personally knows how it must feel to miss out on silly little things. He isn’t unfamiliar with missing out small things like joining a school play or learning how to drive or even going to his senior prom. He, too, missed all of that in lieu of skating.

"I'm fine. Really, it was just a joke," he says with a pout.

And here it is, building walls again - metaphorically, of course, because the great Victor Nikiforov would never dirty his hands. He likes to keep everyone away at a safe and manageable distance, even his own husband at times. It's as if he likes to wallow in his own self-pity.

Yuuri knows exactly what that feels like...

"Well, it's hard to tell sometimes," Yuuri admits with a little more bite than he intended.

Yuuri doesn't mean to snap at him, not really. But he finds himself doing so anyways.

Victor looks like a kid who got caught stealing a cookie, wide-eyed and innocent.

"I don’t know what you’re trying to say. I-I'm not depressed anymore," he bites out.

Yuuri glares at him. He knows that depression doesn't work that way; depression doesn't magically disappear after a few therapy sessions. No matter how much Victor likes to claim he is cured with his cheery smiles and an anti-depressant pill with his breakfast, it won’t stop those deep-seeded thoughts. Treat perhaps but never cure.

It takes one to know one.

However, he isn't about to make a scene in the grocery store, not again, at least.

Instead he exhales and the two walk side by side in silence.

Yuuri grabs a couple of items, placing them into his basket. Occasionally, he will look over at Victor who is lost in his own daydreams. He is making a concerned effort to ignore Yuuri, trying to make him feel guilty, and Yuuri doesn’t want to admit that it’s working.

It feels uncomfortable to fight with Victor like this, to say the least. He wants to say something, anything that will stop this tension between them. Yet every time he opens his mouth, the words fall silent, unable to form.

And, instead, it is Victor who breaks the silence.

"For the record, we sometimes call it fanta," Victor mumbles quietly once they reach the registers.

Yuuri cracks the smallest of smiles. He’s relieved Victor isn’t mad - he’s not one to hold grudges, but his simple words help solidify that. So Yuuri will desperately cling to that, hoping that their argument is over.

“What do you mean?”

“Soft drinks,” Victor clarifies, pointing at the soda. “In Russia, we sometimes call it Fanta.”

“Fanta,” Yuuri repeats. He places the items on the conveyor belt, waiting for the items to be scanned. “I thought that was the orange drink.”

Victor laughs, one of the first genuine laughs he has given in a while.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuuri finally blurts, although he isn’t exactly sure what he is apologizing for.

Victor nods once. He watches each of the items run through the scanner, one by one. “It’s okay,” he says.

“...I didn’t mean to yell at you. I-I just want to see you happy again.”

And it’s true: Yuuri wants to see him happy again, as selfish as it may seem. He isn't sure if it is possible, to fix whatever angst he has about his childhood. He can't exactly change the past; he can't magically make him get a college experience...

That's when he gets a brilliant idea. In hindsight, it really isn't that brilliant; but at the time, Yuuri hails it as one of the best ideas he has ever had. Maybe second to asking Victor to coach him.

How did he not think of this before?

"What if I were to bring you back to my old college? Would that help? You could see what it would be like: sit in a few classes, eat in the dining room, and drink a few American beers. Does that sound like a good idea?"

It's a brilliant idea, now that Yuuri thinks about it. Even if he did swear he would never set foot on a college campus again - specifically any college campus where he was basically infamous - he would be willing to break that rule for Victor.

Victor would finally get to go to college, or at least, experience the parts he wants to see. The trip won’t take long for the novelty of college to wear off and Victor will go back to his normal self. Just like a firework that bursts in a beautiful explosion of color until it fizzles out until to a memory. 

Victor would be happy and, frankly, Yuuri would be happy to if he never heard Victor complain about university ever again.

Everything would go back to normal. Well, as normal as life could be as a the Katsuki-Nikiforovs.

"You'll do all that for me? Just because I want to see what university is like?" Victor asks, practically beaming.

Yuuri shrugs his shoulders, suddenly realizing how ridiculous it must sound to him. Suggesting a trip to the other side of the world on a whim - on Victor's silly obsession with colleges nonetheless - is a rather bold and rash plan. Honestly, it sounds like something Victor would do. Victor is the spontaneous one, the one who makes plans last minute regardless of the consequences. He constantly leaves his tasks to the absolute last possible second, making everyone else scramble to accommodate. To be fair, it is what he does best: surprise people.

And Yuuri? Yuuri is supposed to be the logical and rational one, always planning and re-planning, trying to refine something until it is practically perfect. He's not usually one to suggest a trip to the other side of the world on a whim. This isn’t like him at all!

But if it will get him to stop with these incessant comments, Yuuri is willing to make the sacrifice. To appease his husband’s growing curiosity is worth the four thousand dollars and major migraine.

Although, just this once! Yuuri isn't about to get into a habit of spoiling his significant other’s whims, like a certain someone he knows.

"Well we'd have to plan it right. We can start by asking Phichit if we can stay at his apartment. Then we will need to apply for visas; we can’t just fly spur of the moment to the States. And then we have to book a flight during a week that we’re actually available. We can't go now because it's still summer vacation. I think we have some time in early September before the season officially starts. I was going to plan a trip to visit my old school anyways, but I guess I could show you around while I'm there."

"That sounds amazing! Thank you thank you thank you!" Victor exclaims, enveloping his husband into a hug. The cashier raises her eyebrow, giving them a weird look but they both ignore her. “I’ll start planning right when we get home!”

"That sounds perfect," Yuuri assures him with a bright smile.

What has he just gotten himself into?

_To be continued..._

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! It's been a while but I'm back! And just in time for the TWO YEAR anniversary!  
> Honestly, I've always wanted to do a character study about Victor from Yuuri's perspective, so I hope I do it justice. Then (after watching one too many ice skating interviews), I got inspired to write something about college and ice skating. Bonus points if you get any of those references ;)  
> I know this story may be a bit OOC, but I've just been thinking about how much Yuuri had a "normal" life while being a figure skater whereas Victor "neglected his life and love" for his career. I figured university would be a good way to address this divide. I guess that's where I got inspiration from.  
> Also, I do want to mention that Yuuri looks at education from a privileged perspective. In addition, there are allusions in the show that he was depressed, especially during his final year of school. These combined explain his actions and reactions toward's Victor's "obsession".  
> As a side note, I just want to say that I interchange college and university a lot. Especially where I went to school, college and university are two separate things. However, in America, college and university are basically interchangeable. Basically, he is referring to his undergraduate degree.  
> Lastly, I have no idea what they actually call soda in Russia so I'm using the common phrase for soft-drinks in Europe (which is usually referred to as Fanta, especially at restaurants). If anyone knows the correct term that would be used, I would love to know!  
> I love you all ad I hope you stay for chapter 2! I should have it out within the month (hopefully).  
> If you liked this, please leave a kudos/comment. It really encourages me to write! Plus, all constructive criticism is super appreciated!


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